


Welcome Home

by piraterhino



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, friend sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piraterhino/pseuds/piraterhino
Summary: Tony comes back from a trip, and Abby really missed him.





	Welcome Home

It’s easy to smile when she hears the footsteps behind her in the lab.  
  
If it was a Gibbs-shaped thing, she’d never have heard it.  
  
A Tony-shaped thing always leaves a trail. Like his personality is too big to disappear from a space, so he fills it up, and when he leaves, there are Tony-shaped fingerprints over everything to remind you here was there.   
  
She likes it.  
  
So it’s not remotely feigned when she whips around crying his name and charges him.  
  
She likes that, too. Tony is big and solid like a tree, but not a tree. Something way sexier than a tree, with big broad shoulders and narrow hips and legs that go on for days, topped with that absolute peach of an ass.   
  
She likes that if she flings herself at him, all her considerable energy and height, he simply braces his hips and scoops her up.  
  
There’s a lot to be said for being made to feel delicate when you’re five foot eight, but he does just that, long arms wrapping all the way around her to grin into her ear when he speaks.  
  
“Missed me, Abs?”  
  
He’s the most tactile person she knows, always touching, or leaning, or stroking, so she always tries to give him some back, petting his soft, soft hair and leaning back in his secure embrace to show him the glowing smile he put on her face.  
  
“Absolutely!”  
  
His grin is infectious and the way she’s leaning has him resettling her against his hips, and she feels…   
  
“What‘d you bring me, Tony?” The tone is only lightly suggestive, one they’ve used back and forth a thousand times before but now there is a slight flush across his high cheekbones, and she can’t resist a small wiggle against him.  
  
“Mmm… Feels smaller than a breadbox, but bigger than a badge, Agent DiNozzo.”  
  
Gibbs swift entrance and resultant smack to the back of Tony’s head has him setting her down quickly and taking two steps back.   
  
“Better be his gun then.”  
  
“Aw, Gibbs! He hasn‘t given me my present yet!”  
  
“Heh, what makes you think I brought something home for you, Abs?”  
  
She bats her green eyes into those similar, and smiles. “Cause it means you missed me, in Tony-speak.”  
  
“I‘m gonna fire you both in Gibbs-speak if I don‘t get some answers. Now.”  
  
She sneaks in a ninja-kiss to Gibbs cheek and chatters about tetrafluoroethylene and why, in its decomposing stage it had been dangerous but definitely not the reason Private Andrews died.  
  
He drags Tony back upstairs with him, but he promises his present with a wink and a tap to his watch.  
  
After work, then.  
  
~*~*~  
  
It is, of course, gorgeous.   
  
And extravagant and absolutely nothing she needs or would ever ask for. If it were anyone else, she would refuse it.  
  
But it’s not anyone.  
  
It’s Tony DiNozzo, so she lets her jaw drop before she plasters herself against him with a happy laugh, and feels his gorgeous mouth curve against her hair while he takes in her glee.  
  
“Try them on.”   
  
“Oh my God, Tony… I‘m too under-dressed to even be holding these!!”  
  
“Come on, pretty girl, you‘re nuts. They‘d look good on you wearing nothing.”  
  
And it’s that image that blindsides him as she slips out of his arms and races to her bedroom, and he kind of wishes for Gibbs to be there smacking him out of it.  
  
Not that he doesn’t really. Really. Really appreciate every bit of freaky-girl-hotness Abby supplies; he’s just not sure what’ll happen to his concentration if he keeps thinking about her naked.  
  
She’s given him an inventory, though not a show, of all her tattoos. She won’t tell him where they all are, either, so he just has this list of pictures in his head, that he’ll try to match up to the soft, pale curves of her body when the computer screen blurs in front of his eyes at work, or she flashes him just that smile, or spins just that way in those itty bitty little scraps of plaid.  
  
And before his brain can melt out of his ears while his imagination is fed by the sound of clothes rustling from her bedroom, as he considers what she’d look like stripping down to something gothic and quirky, maybe lace bat underwear or a soft demi-cup bra, her tight but slightly lush, really rocking breasts spilling over the top…  
  
She walks back into the room, her smile glowing, in a tiny black dress he’s seen her wear when Gibbs takes her to dinner.   
  
It’s simple, flow-ee in the skirt and tight everywhere else. The necklace and bracelet he found in a shop along the beach are worth every overpriced dime. They are quirky, messy, and beautiful, and he knew that she would want to have them.   
  
That he’d want to see them on her body. They are both made of strand upon strand of red sea glass, strung together with silver wiring, the bits of glass all different shapes and sizes, and winding through it all are black pearls.  
  
Very Mistress of the Dark, if he said so himself.  
  
She fingered them reverently while she grinned at him. “Well?”  
  
“I‘m not sure. Why don‘t you go slip on some shoes, and we‘ll see how they look under the lights at that Moroccan joint?”  
  
“Tony, you don‘t have to-”  
  
“C‘mon, Abs! You‘re not gonna make me eat alone on my first night back are you? Who am I gonna tell my stories to?”  
  
She grins, makes for her bedroom again, and freezes mid-step. Tony barely has the time to jerk his eyes up from where he was appreciating the way she moves before she turns around and jumps into his arms again.  
  
This time his hands are settled high on her thighs, her dress riding up since she’s wrapped herself firmly around him, legs hooking around his waist, arms sliding around his neck and she’s kissing him exuberantly yet chastely on his lips.  
  
“I really missed you.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
They laugh loudly and eat with their fingers, and probably drink a little too much between them.   
  
As they walk the few blocks to his apartment (his is closer, it won‘t be the first time he‘s taken the couch, and she a t-shirt), Tony considers Abby.   
  
She is, undoubtedly, the most well-loved person at NCIS. They are all a little afraid and a little in love with her warmth, her blatant disregard for rules she thinks are stupid, and her unwavering acceptance of all of them.  
  
Despite her tattoos, lipstick and adamant belief in vampires, Tony often thinks she is the most normal person who works at the Navy Yard.  
  
Most certainly the most normal person on Team Gibbs. It’s her blatant dysfunction that allows theirs to slip under the radar.  
  
He feels overwhelmingly fond of her in the moment, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders and tucks her into his frame.  
  
“Life‘s not too bad, Abby, ya know?”  
  
She’s been thinking similar thoughts about Tony, so she smiles contentedly up at him. “I want your OSU hoodie.”  
  
He scowls, but ruins it with a kiss to her temple. She smells good. “Knew Gibbs would spoil you when I was gone.”  
  
She nuzzles into him and he carries them forward, leading them so she can keep her eyes closed and her nose buried against his collarbone, which is about as high as she can reach.  
  
“Only cause he knows I miss you so bad.”  
  
~*~*~  
  
Abby doesn’t take off the jewelry, even when they are sitting on his couch, and he’s finally out of his suit, carefully and lovingly hung back into his closet.   
  
Which appears to have given Abby time to slip into his favorite hoodie, her dress crumpled to the side of the couch, where its been taunting him ever since.   
  
He’s a tall man, and she’s a little woman, so the sweatshirt, worn thin, hangs down almost to her knees, which she’s drawn up to her chest while she leans against him.  
  
It’s this kind of thing that makes Tony feel like he’s really home. Her hair is down, so he strokes his fingers through it while he rambles trivia about the actors and directors.   
  
When the credits are rolling in their black and white glory, he mumbles, “See, Gutman and Wilmer are called “Fat Man” and “Little Boy”. And that’s also what they called the two atomic bombs that got dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima.”   
  
He’s a little miffed by her lack of response. This is the trivia that Abby loves. It explodes.  
  
When the hand she’s hooked into the collar of his tee-shirt starts to droop, he realizes she’s fallen asleep.   
  
He vows they’ll finish the movie so she remembers after work tomorrow, as long as Gibbs doesn’t keep them too late.   
  
He’s trying to figure out if it’s easier to just lay her back, and take the bed for himself, or if he thinks he can carry her without waking his little bundle of black eye shadow.   
  
He decides to risk it, because she deserves the bed, and as happy as he is to be home, he’s not exactly exhausted yet.   
  
And maybe because he’s always wondered what she’d look like with her hair spread over his pillows.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Of course, seeing those creamy legs draped over his arm is incredibly distracting, and so are the tatts he can now cross of his list of “Where does she hide them all”.  
  
She hides a tiny, tiny praying mantis on the crease of her hip. He’s not sure if it’s science, religion, life-cycle- related, or if she liked the thought of it eating its mate. Maybe she was bored.  
  
With Abby, you could never tell. He knew about the anchor on the inside of her ankle, and now knows that she keeps a periodic element symbol (Einsteinium, he recalls) stashed right where her bra strap would be.  
  
It’s not his fault the neckline of his very old, very worn hoodie gaps. He doesn’t make the bed, which makes it easier to slip her into it, and pull the covers up over her.  
  
He drops a familiar kiss on her nose, and starts to pull away when her hand slips around his neck, and her face tips up sleepily.  
  
There is a part of his brain that knows this is how many a Penthouse letter begins, but Abby really is a woman he respects, and at the end of the day, he knows can kill him without a forensic trace.   
  
“Goodnight, Abs,” he mumbles with a soft smile.  
  
“Not yet.” It’s a tired declaration, but a declaration nonetheless. She brushes her lips across his, testing the ground before her hand skims down his throat and across his collarbone, and she kisses him more firmly.  
  
His eyes shut slowly, softly, like this is something in a movie, aided by the dim lighting, and the gentle haze a truly full-bodied red wine had given their world.   
  
And maybe a lot to do with the pretty girl warm and soft in his arms.   
  
She pulls back enough to smile against his lips, and instead of talking, which is, admittedly something they are both fabulous at, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue delicately into her mouth, and make a statement for him.  
  
She breaks away just long enough to invite him closer, nipping at his jaw while she whispers.  
  
“It‘d be rude to make you sleep on the couch when you just got home, Tony.”  
  
“Is that why I should lay down, Abs?”  
  
She bites her lip while she stares at him, then shakes her head. “You should lay down so I know what it feels like to have you on top of me, all that lean muscle, those long legs, that big strong chest…” She’s drawing her fingers over his body, feeding him a fantasy he can’t remember believing in for a moment.  
  
Those long fingers roam over his face, tracing his lips repeatedly, and her gaze becomes a little unfocused. “Kinda wanna make sure that booty you carry around is as hot as I remember, or if it was just the adrenaline.”  
  
He takes incredible exception to her disclaimer and nips at her fingertips, her laughter making him grudgingly lap at them in apology.  
  
“So I can feel you inside me…”  
  
Tony pulls back the blankets and stretches over her gently curving body and pins her questing hands to either side of her head.  
  
When he’s sure she knows not to move them, he kisses the insides of her wrists, then skims down her body, then back up it, gathering the hoodie and finally pulling it off her.  
  
He’s lying between her spread legs now, his own dangling off the edge of the mattress, keeping his mouth directly in line with his prize. His deep exhale over her panties makes her shiver, and the smile he sends her is full of flashing teeth before he nuzzles his nose into the damp spot he gleans from her core.  
  
“Knew they‘d be red.”   
  
He runs his tongue along the edge of them, absorbing her noises and her taste so close to the crux of her, but not close enough for either of them.   
  
She rolls her hips and whines softly. “Tony.”  
  
He switches to nibbling the sensitive flesh at the crease of her hip and watches her stammer and arch.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
One hand leaves the pillows to fix pleadingly in his hair. “We didn‘t take seven years to get… ya know… here… to take our time, did we?”  
  
She means it to be coaxing, and he turns his head to sink his teeth into the heel of her palm and listens to her quick inhale, and feels her hips rising impatiently.  
  
“If you think we took seven years so I could rush it and not indulge every fantasy I‘ve ever had about you, except the one with you over Gibbs‘ desk for obvious health and safety issues…”  
  
He laves the area he bit with his tongue, then blows on it gently. “You‘re crazier than you look. And I gotta tell ya, Abs… Sometimes you look pretty damn crazy.”  
  
So he takes his time. Tony DiNozzo is a lot of things to a lot of people, but a selfish lover has never made anyone’s list.  
  
Even if he was… Never with Abby. He likes learning that she tastes different all over her body. That she adds a dab of perfume behind her left knee.  
  
That she really, really likes his long tongue and the way he can stab it into her while he circles her clit with a feather-light finger.  
  
He likes that he can twist three fingers into her, feeling her squeeze around them, and still make her laugh while he nibbles her nipples and tickles across her ribs.   
  
She likes turning the tables, and hates having an orgasm deficit. She thinks three-to-one is unfair and selfish, so she remedies it as quickly as she can.  
  
After she tortures him the way he did her.  
  
He’s proud of his body, and he arches and groans and absorbs every touch while her fingers and lips seek out his sensitive places.  
  
But it makes his chest oddly tight when she stares seriously down at the lines of old scar tissue across his ribs, bullet grazes along his shoulders, the tiny white line underneath his jaw that screams “Jeffery White was here” and covers them in careful kisses.  
  
Of course, she’s evil, which, really, is totally hot on her, and she cards her fingers through his chest hair, tugging softly and mouthing across his chest, sinking her teeth in from time to time just to hear him moan.  
  
When she wraps her lips around his cock, he has to close his eyes, because he cannot believe that anyone can make him feel this good, so he shoves his face into his pillow as hard as he can, thanking and cursing God in the same breath, and reciting the rules for the designated hitter in college ball.  
  
When he finally looks down the length of his own body, it is to see green eyes staring provocatively up at him, and black lipstick smeared on the skin of his pelvis where she has bottomed out taking his not inconsiderable length into her throat.  
  
In about four seconds he’s going to ruin the family name, so he does what any man would: fists one hand in her hair, and wraps the other around her waist, pulling her up, off, over, beneath him, and buries his face between her legs, earnestly, desperately needing to taste the way she comes around his fingers and tongue.  
  
It’s the only way he knows to say thank you or that he’s overwhelmed by her.  
  
He loves the pain of her fingers twisting in his hair, and wonders somewhere in the recesses of his mind if there will be a next time for all this.  
  
And if there is, if she’ll keep her red spiky heels on so he can feel their cool scrape across his sides…  
  
~*~*~  
  
When he finally slides inside her, it’s with a sigh. He had entertained the notion, once upon a time, that sleeping with Abby would involve chains and a dubious blood exchange, and it may yet, but right now…  
  
He swallows the tiny grunt she makes when he bottoms out in her, and they freeze for just a moment, green eyes searing into green eyes, and then any control he pretends to have is gone, and they are lost and wild in each others’ arms.   
  
Abby likes being on top just as much as he does, and they fight for dominance in a way that only highly competitive people can:  
  
Relentlessly.  
  
She pins his hands by his ears while she rides him hard, leaning over so she can use her body as a restraint, and he watches the sweat trickle down her collarbone and fall between her bouncing breasts.  
  
He can only take so much before he tips his head up and sucks vehemently at the rosy-tipped treat in his face.   
  
She throws her head back and arches her back and looks nothing so much like a cat in heat as she howls his name, and it’s a wicked smile he gives her while he drives even harder into her from beneath, twisting his hips.  
  
He almost unseats her, but manages to stay inside her when they flip positions, and because of her pretty, pretty snarl, he fists a hand in her hair.  
  
Tony is always careful to be very gentle with ladies, because he’s very big, big hands, big feet, big shoulders, big… well…   
  
But Abby is giving as good as she gets, and he’s entirely too keyed up to hold back. He’s pretty sure she’d kick his ass for insulting her that way.  
  
So when he bites her earlobe, he whispers hotly at her, and by the way she gives a full-body shudder and tightens around his dick, he knows he’s done well.  
  
“Gonna flip you over and fuck you from behind, watch you really arch and wail, keep my hand in your hair… really see how that necklace looks with cross…”  
  
Her pupils are completely blown, so he makes good on his threat, and watches her curl her back up, her ass presented oh-so-sweetly, and he can’t resist, so before he slides balls deep again, he sinks his teeth into the muscle and sweet curve of her ass, leaving teeth marks and sucking hard for good measure.   
  
His fingers press on her clit at the same time, and he kisses the spot for the noise she makes.  
  
It’s like a Caf-Pow but more secret, he thinks while he buries himself inside her again, and the necklace does look good against her back, one hand taking its place in her hair, the other running along her flank, flicking at her clit or nipples.  
  
She’s supporting herself on one arm, the other reaching back blindly for him.  
  
“Tony!”  
  
“C‘mon, Abby… One… more…” He’s accenting his words with thrusts, because he knows she has one more orgasm in her, and he wants it all for himself. She’s close, because she can’t stop shaking and he’s about to lose it himself.  
  
He leans his entire frame over her back, their sweat combining and scent assaulting him, and he groans heavily into the back of her neck where he laps and bites as she shudders one last time.  
  
He’s mumbling stupid things, gasping, shuddering things as his hips snap into her one last time, and they fall, an uncoordinated tangle of limbs and stickiness and huffing laughter as Tony disposes of the condom and pulls the comforter over their cooling bodies.  
  
He wraps her deeply and carefully into his arms, hands checking for bruises and bumps, because it’s Abby.   
  
She presses a muzzy kiss against the rasp of his beard and stills his seeking fingers. “M‘fine. Better than fine.”  
  
He smiles, because he is, too, and hasn’t ruined anything, because it is, after all, Abby. If there is anyone who will still respect him in the morning, it’s her.  
  
Her toes are a tiny cold press against his calves and as he lets out a manly hiss, she only snuggles closer with a sleepy smile.  
  
She’s insinuated herself into the space between his shoulder and collarbone, and lets out a soft huff, and he can feel the smile against his skin.   
  
“I was so right the first time, Tony. That is a serious booty you‘re packing. I‘m pretty relieved.”  
  
He likes that they’re close enough that the laughter rumbles through both of them.  
  
He races nimble fingers across her ribs, lazily luxuriating in her accompanying giggle and long sigh.  
  
“Welcome home, Tony.”


End file.
